


Personal Shopper

by HappilyShanghaied



Series: Tumblr Shits and Giggles [1]
Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: (bro)ments, Derek doesn't know how to dress himself, Jackson is P-whipped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-09
Updated: 2013-09-09
Packaged: 2017-12-26 04:05:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/961369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappilyShanghaied/pseuds/HappilyShanghaied
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jackson is blackmailed into taking Derek clothes shopping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Personal Shopper

**Author's Note:**

> This one was inspired by this post about Colton Haynes taking everybody in the cast shopping and picking out their clothes: [Check out the post.](http://bit.ly/15MSqio)

“I can dress myself, asshole. I’ve been doing it for over 20 years.”

Derek stared at the jumble of dress shirts in Jackson’s hands and scowled.

“You think I don’t have anything better to do than play dress up with leather daddy Ken?” Jackson hooked the hangers onto the tiny door peg of the oversized dressing room, giving no fucks when half of them slid onto the floor in a cascade of silk and pima cotton.

Derek raised an eyebrow as he cautiously doffed his leather jacket, tossing it to the ground in the corner of the cubicle. “Then why are you here?”

“Why are you here?” Jackson shot back, widening his eyes with expectation.

“Your fiancee seems to think I’m going to ruin all of your wedding photos with my shitty clothing. She told me my tight jeans and low cut henleys make me look like I should be doing gay porn,” Derek said, more uncomfortable than angry. “Since I like my balls where they are, I’m resigned to just close my eyes and let it happen.”

Jackson sucked in a breath and tried not to laugh. “Saying shit like that is really not going to help you shed the gay porn vibe, dude.”

“Saying shit like what?” As Derek leaned over to pick up the fallen shirts, his head quirked in Jackson’s direction.

“You really don’t hear yourself?” Jackson leaned his back against the wall of the dressing room with arms crossed over his chest, and his face schooled into a well-worn look of amused disbelief.

Derek’s eyes were still trained on the pile of expensive fabric enmeshed in his hands. He held the giant clump like a person being handed an infant for the first time in their lives, without forewarning.

“You’re entering Tobias Funke territory.”

“I have no idea what that is.”

“Arrested Development?” Jackson waited for signs of recognition and then rolled his eyes theatrically when they never came. “Of course you don’t. You don’t have a tv. You’re the only person under the age of 30 who doesn’t get basic cultural references. You live like an inbred, Appalachian yokel. It’s one of the reasons why your romantic prospects run from you like the plague.”

Derek’s mouth settled into an unimpressed line. His hard eyes dared Jackson to continue.

Never one to shy away from a challenge, Jackson gestured toward Derek’s sour expression. “And that. That’s the other reason.” His eyes scanned the werewolf’s hulking form. “And the way you dress, too. Lydia is doing you a favor by blackmailing me into this. If you weren’t such a charity case, I wouldn’t have caved to her demands. I can go a week without sex. It’s a sign of virility. I would have just jacked off a few times and suggested she get Stiles to take you.”

The smile that tugged at the corners of Jackson’s mouth was pure evil.

Derek threw the dress shirts onto a bench and crinkled his forehead.“Is this the part where I’m supposed to thank you?”

“For rescuing you from a shopping trip with Stiles? Yeah.” Laughter dripped from his lips like a leaky faucet. “Do you  _want_  to wear a plaid, flannel shirt with a tuxedo? He’d probably try to get you to pair it with a set of leather Converse.”

Derek snorted at the image. “I’m still not saying it. And I’m not promising Lydia anything, either. If I find something I like, then I’ll buy it, but I’m not going to wear something just because she tells me to, no matter how scary she gets. I’m not her fucking monkey – she has you for that. This is purely a courtesy trip.”

“Right. Because you’re real big on courtesy.”

“You’re one to talk,” Derek mumbled, as his fingers apprehensively carded through the hangers on the bench.

“Come on, she’s already conned me into doing this for Allison’s dad. Apparently, she’s not going to be happy until our wedding reception rivals the red carpet at the Costume Institute gala.” The blank look on Derek’s face had Jackson shaking his head. “Sorry – forgot who I was talking to for a second.”

Jackson was about to launch into another plea when something in the pile caught Derek’s eye. “You like that?”

Derek held the grey silk shirt up to his chest and looked in the mirror. “It doesn’t suck, I guess.” His head tilted to the side to take in the full view.

“Who makes it?”

“Huh?”

“Check the tag, asshole,” Jackson said, pointing to the crisp, white card hanging from the sleeve by a plastic thread.

Derek squinted to read the small writing. “Hugo Boss.”

Jackson’s face lit up. “That’s on Lydia’s list of approved designers. Maybe you’re not as hopeless as you look.”

“Do you think they have this in black?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Follow me on Tumblr: [Happily Shanghaied](http://happilyshaghaied.tumblr.com)


End file.
